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AUTHOR NOTE: Finally, I'm finished with my monster of a 15 page history essay. Whew! Now I can concentrate on the more 'important' stuff. Thanks for waiting patiently guys. Here's the next installment.

Ch. 11: Complications

The clock was ticking and it was a stalemate. Soon Bastile would catch on. Tsuru gritted his teeth. “If you’re not going to kill him, I will will Dodon-”

Distracted, Jeb turned to look. It gave Bastile the break. In a blink of an eye, Bastile swept in and disarmed the Galestorm captain. With an iron grip, he seized him by the throat, placing Jeb between himself and Tsuru. A toothy grin stretched across Bastile’s face. “If I’m going to hell, at least I’ll take you with me. Time’s up Chink. The dragonball or his life.”

He could just leave the pacifist idiot to pay for his own stupidity. There was no way he give up his prize. But Bastile had irritated him for the last time. Withdrawing the dragonball from his pocket, Tsuru placed it on the deck and rolled it before Bastile. He watched as the thug ordered Jeb to retrieve it, who did so and stooped down.

Providing Tsuru the opening. He raised his hands, fingers apart, ensnaring Bastile with telekinesis. Bastile could only groan helplessly as none of his muscles would respond.

Jeb took up the dragonball and rushed towards Tsuru, only to spot a flash of light from the upper deck. His eyes widened. “TSURU! GET DOWN!”

Startled, Tsuru dove just as a massive white-hot khi beam shot past his head, singeing the hairs on the back of his neck. Bastile took a direct hit. The tongues of flame leapt across the Marionette captain’s coat. Bastile batted at them futilely, but soon the fire was uncontrollable. It covered every part of him until he became nothing more than a burning effigy. He let out a horrendous shriek before it was cut short. There was nothing left but a pile of cinder ashes.

Jeb and Tsuru hid behind a stack of crates, peering for their unseen attacker. Tsuru spotted briefly a long-haired figure by the wheel, but it turned and vanished in a swirl of blue.

Suddenly, the deck lurched and thunder resounded below.

“SHIT!” Tsuru yelled and grabbing Jeb, the two hurl themselves off the starboard side just as plumes of fire shot up, consuming the ship in a cascading inferno.

Fifteen minutes later, dripping wet and exhausted, they stumbled into the captain’s quarters. Jeb headed for the cabinet. “Gin or scotch?”

“Scotch.” Tsuru plopped himself heavily into the leather armchair by the fire.

For a while they sat sipping at their beverages and listening to the uproarious laughter of the celebrating crew. They barely were aware of what they were drinking as they contemplated the new turn of events.

Jeb cleared his throat. “I believe this belongs to you.” He fished out a round object from his trousers. “And a bonus.” With that, he produced the three star dragonball from his breast pocket.

Tsuru smirked in disbelief. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Courtesy of Bastile and his merry men,” Jeb said with a wink. He lifted up a handsome gold watch. “He had good taste don’t you agree?”

The other chuckled softly and took another swing of his glass. “I’m afraid what I must discuss with you is no laughing matter, however. You remember the man who fired upon us as we battled Bastile?”

“How could I forget? Friend of yours?”

“Hardly. But a worthy adversary all the same, whoever it was.”

Jeb stood by the mantel, sipping at his wine. And Tsuru knew what he was thinking. There was no mistaking that whoever was after the dragonballs was after him. His very presence on board threatened the safety of the ship. Regretfully, Tsuru knew he must do. Nevertheless, he was glad to move on. There were other dragonballs to search for.

“You know as well as I do that I must depart.”

“Don’t be stupid. At least under the Galestorm’s sails you would have some protection.”

A scoff came from the Crane Master. “Please, the enemy is not your common pirate.” He narrowed his eyes. “ Rather, we are dealing with a martial artist, and a very proficient one at that. No, as long as I’m here, you and your men are in grave danger.”

The next morning found Tsuru on deck, staring at his last oceanic sunrise. The sky was rapidly warming up, promising another scorcher. He took a deep breath, allowing the metal tinged scent of seawater to enter his lungs. He was ready.

The men stood at attention as Captain Jeb Hawker bid farewell to their guest. “I wish we could have done more, Tsuru,” Jeb said softly, shaking his hand.

“Believe me, you’ve done beyond that was expected,” Tsuru replied.

The Dragon Radar blipped once again as he coasted over the land. Only did he neared the Southern Desert did he realized that next to the other two dragonballs, this one would be almost impossible to spot amid the burning sand if it had been buried.

He bought a beast of burden from ‘Ernie’s Used Camels Lot,’ in which he barely was able to resist killing the owner for his ridiculous prices. The idiot was only spared when Tsuru’s camel charged toward the desert without him, carrying off supplies and all. The damn thing gave him quite a run before it settled down.

“Right.,” he said as he studied the radar again. “Now where is it?” Perhaps he had circled the area six times, for he saw the same goat-shaped rock for the past three hours. Fuming, he stopped at a small desert outpost.

As he approached it, a caravan noted his strange attire.

“He won’t last long out here, not with all the thieves about” sneered one woman.

“If the exposure doesn’t claim him first though,” joked another.

He shouldered past them, seeking at least one person to help him. The sun beat down mercilessly upon him so that he wondered if he would indeed die from thirst. He noticed a boy by the village well.

“You, boy. Tell me…” Before Tsuru could finish, the child dashed toward a group of people milling about, murmuring to themselves.

Curious, Tsuru forced his way closer to the front, where to his surprise; he found the ground strewn with bandits. Standing as if bored by it all was a young woman with a large halberdier in hand. If Tsuru was ill clad for the desert, she was more so. Her red-caped dress gave her an Amazon warrior princess look. Her feather head-dress bobbed in the hot wind.

Now she stood, glaring at the men at her feet. “Pathetic. I had expected that all of you would last ten minutes at least. I even gave you a sporting chance by letting you attack me at once.”

She stooped and seized a thug by the front of his shirt, lifting him effortlessly like a rag doll, though he had to have been 200 pounds at least. “Now that play time is over, boys, I want answers. Have you seen a man with a bird-headed hat?”

Tsuru backed up and pulled his cap off, tucking it into his pocket. Slowly, he eased back, slipping into the sea of faces. He fell into step with the marketplace crowd.

He had no idea who she was, but suspected she could be working for the man who killed Bastile. He would have to lay low till then. An abnormally strong woman couldn’t be a good sign.

From a tent a drunk stumbled out. “Sure is good stuff,” he hiccupped and collapsed on the road. Without second thoughts, Tsuru seized him by the feet and dragged him behind some barrels. He came out properly dressed. The turban irritated his scalp though, and he shuddered at the thought of lice.

It was not a second later that the same strange woman stormed by, eyeing the crowds suspiciously, who parted before her with caution. Brushing past, she gave no second look to Tsuru, who avoided her glance, before pressing on.

Once she disappeared around the corner, Tsuru took another route, unaware that he was tailed. Edging through the rows of tents, he was within feet of his camel when a callous hand grabbed him by the collar.

A burly man with a milk-white eye leered at him. “Hey there pal, pay up or kiss up.” He flung out his fist, which Tsuru easily caught. Slamming his forehead into the thug’s, Tsuru sprinted away from thief’s cries of anger. Soon a chorus of voices started up.

Emerging into the market crowds, Tsuru sped through the bodies, hoping to lose them. As he turned around a stall, a thin thief lashed at him with his scimitar. The weapon grazed Tsuru’s face and drew a thin line of blood. Tsuru retaliated by grabbing the handle and thrusting it at him, striking the man with the back of his own sword.

But the delay allowed the rest of the gang to catch up. Even a full-fledged ambush Tsuru could not take on at once. He had to thin out the lot.

He scaled up a tottering stack of enormous vases, elevating himself from the fray.

“I’ll get him, boss!” A reedy man dashed forward eagerly, followed by some of his cohorts.

“NO, YOU IDIOTS!” The one-eyed man screamed.

Ignoring their leader, the thieves kicked over the vases at the base of the stack. Tsuru tottered over, much to their delight. It was short lived. The entire pile plummeted and felll unto the very fools who triggered the avalanche. The boss tore at his beard and stormed amid the debris, searching for his prey.

“Up here, Baka.” Tsuru sneered as he hung unto a clothesline. “Tsk. Tsk. Shame on you. Picking a fight with a helpless old man.” But he stopped short when he heard the voice of the strange woman again. Quickly he dropped to the ground, realizing that he had alerted her with the commotion. He looked for a place to hide, but then had an idea. He dashed over to the bandit leader and kicked in the behind. The thug retaliated with a solid whallop into Tsuru’s gut, sending him crashing into the stall.

“You there! Stop!” The girl stepped from the crowd, brandishing her halberdier menacingly.

The thief laughed. “Come on, goddess, this isn’t your battle.”

She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “I got you now, Crane Hermit. I’ve been searching for so long.”

“Huh?” A dumbfounded look crossed his features. He scratched his head in confusion. “I don’t know who you’re lookin’ for Sweetheart, but it sure isn’t me…” His hand stopped as the touched something strange on his head. He withdrew it, finding it was an odd hat with a bird’s head perched upon it.

The boss was close to having a heartattack. “Ann, look. You got the wrong guy. Honest!” He backed up as the warrior pressed her weapon at the base of his neck.

She gave him a triumphant look. “Oh, no I don’t. Bird hat, old, and able to hold his own against a gang…You are him.”

The bandit buckled under the pressure and ran screaming like a girl into the market crowd, with Annin on his heels. The people laughed as they watched the two scurry through the streets.

Seeing the coast was clear, Tsuru pulled himself from the wreckage and chuckled at his cleverness. As he straightened, he noticed a stall with mounds of brilliant jewelry on it. In the middle of the collection was the six-star dragon ball, embedded in a wreath of opals and pearls necklace.

Tsuru bought the thing immediately and tore away the jewels from the dragon ball. He got back to his camel and prepared to mount when he noticed the beast had something pink in its mouth. With difficulty, he pulled it out and read:

“TICKET FOR ILLEGAL PARKING. PLEASE PAY AT SHAH’S COURT. THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY.”

Description
AUTHOR NOTE: Finally, I'm finished with my monster of a 15 page history essay. Whew! Now I can concentrate on the more 'important' stuff. Thanks for waiting patiently guys. Here's the next installment.

Ch. 11: Complications

The clock was ticking and it was a stalemate. Soon Bastile would catch on. Tsuru gritted his teeth. “If you’re not going to kill him, I will will Dodon-”

Distracted, Jeb turned to look. It gave Bastile the break. In a blink of an eye, Bastile swept in and disarmed the Galestorm captain. With an iron grip, he seized him by the throat, placing Jeb between himself and Tsuru. A toothy grin stretched across Bastile’s face. “If I’m going to hell, at least I’ll take you with me. Time’s up Chink. The dragonball or his life.”

He could just leave the pacifist idiot to pay for his own stupidity. There was no way he give up his prize. But Bastile had irritated him for the last time. Withdrawing the dragonball from his pocket, Tsuru placed it on the deck and rolled it before Bastile. He watched as the thug ordered Jeb to retrieve it, who did so and stooped down.

Providing Tsuru the opening. He raised his hands, fingers apart, ensnaring Bastile with telekinesis. Bastile could only groan helplessly as none of his muscles would respond.

Jeb took up the dragonball and rushed towards Tsuru, only to spot a flash of light from the upper deck. His eyes widened. “TSURU! GET DOWN!”

Startled, Tsuru dove just as a massive white-hot khi beam shot past his head, singeing the hairs on the back of his neck. Bastile took a direct hit. The tongues of flame leapt across the Marionette captain’s coat. Bastile batted at them futilely, but soon the fire was uncontrollable. It covered every part of him until he became nothing more than a burning effigy. He let out a horrendous shriek before it was cut short. There was nothing left but a pile of cinder ashes.

Jeb and Tsuru hid behind a stack of crates, peering for their unseen attacker. Tsuru spotted briefly a long-haired figure by the wheel, but it turned and vanished in a swirl of blue.

Suddenly, the deck lurched and thunder resounded below.

“SHIT!” Tsuru yelled and grabbing Jeb, the two hurl themselves off the starboard side just as plumes of fire shot up, consuming the ship in a cascading inferno.

Fifteen minutes later, dripping wet and exhausted, they stumbled into the captain’s quarters. Jeb headed for the cabinet. “Gin or scotch?”

“Scotch.” Tsuru plopped himself heavily into the leather armchair by the fire.

For a while they sat sipping at their beverages and listening to the uproarious laughter of the celebrating crew. They barely were aware of what they were drinking as they contemplated the new turn of events.

Jeb cleared his throat. “I believe this belongs to you.” He fished out a round object from his trousers. “And a bonus.” With that, he produced the three star dragonball from his breast pocket.

Tsuru smirked in disbelief. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Courtesy of Bastile and his merry men,” Jeb said with a wink. He lifted up a handsome gold watch. “He had good taste don’t you agree?”

The other chuckled softly and took another swing of his glass. “I’m afraid what I must discuss with you is no laughing matter, however. You remember the man who fired upon us as we battled Bastile?”

“How could I forget? Friend of yours?”

“Hardly. But a worthy adversary all the same, whoever it was.”

Jeb stood by the mantel, sipping at his wine. And Tsuru knew what he was thinking. There was no mistaking that whoever was after the dragonballs was after him. His very presence on board threatened the safety of the ship. Regretfully, Tsuru knew he must do. Nevertheless, he was glad to move on. There were other dragonballs to search for.

“You know as well as I do that I must depart.”

“Don’t be stupid. At least under the Galestorm’s sails you would have some protection.”

A scoff came from the Crane Master. “Please, the enemy is not your common pirate.” He narrowed his eyes. “ Rather, we are dealing with a martial artist, and a very proficient one at that. No, as long as I’m here, you and your men are in grave danger.”

The next morning found Tsuru on deck, staring at his last oceanic sunrise. The sky was rapidly warming up, promising another scorcher. He took a deep breath, allowing the metal tinged scent of seawater to enter his lungs. He was ready.

The men stood at attention as Captain Jeb Hawker bid farewell to their guest. “I wish we could have done more, Tsuru,” Jeb said softly, shaking his hand.

“Believe me, you’ve done beyond that was expected,” Tsuru replied.

The Dragon Radar blipped once again as he coasted over the land. Only did he neared the Southern Desert did he realized that next to the other two dragonballs, this one would be almost impossible to spot amid the burning sand if it had been buried.

He bought a beast of burden from ‘Ernie’s Used Camels Lot,’ in which he barely was able to resist killing the owner for his ridiculous prices. The idiot was only spared when Tsuru’s camel charged toward the desert without him, carrying off supplies and all. The damn thing gave him quite a run before it settled down.

“Right.,” he said as he studied the radar again. “Now where is it?” Perhaps he had circled the area six times, for he saw the same goat-shaped rock for the past three hours. Fuming, he stopped at a small desert outpost.

As he approached it, a caravan noted his strange attire.

“He won’t last long out here, not with all the thieves about” sneered one woman.

“If the exposure doesn’t claim him first though,” joked another.

He shouldered past them, seeking at least one person to help him. The sun beat down mercilessly upon him so that he wondered if he would indeed die from thirst. He noticed a boy by the village well.

“You, boy. Tell me…” Before Tsuru could finish, the child dashed toward a group of people milling about, murmuring to themselves.

Curious, Tsuru forced his way closer to the front, where to his surprise; he found the ground strewn with bandits. Standing as if bored by it all was a young woman with a large halberdier in hand. If Tsuru was ill clad for the desert, she was more so. Her red-caped dress gave her an Amazon warrior princess look. Her feather head-dress bobbed in the hot wind.

Now she stood, glaring at the men at her feet. “Pathetic. I had expected that all of you would last ten minutes at least. I even gave you a sporting chance by letting you attack me at once.”

She stooped and seized a thug by the front of his shirt, lifting him effortlessly like a rag doll, though he had to have been 200 pounds at least. “Now that play time is over, boys, I want answers. Have you seen a man with a bird-headed hat?”

Tsuru backed up and pulled his cap off, tucking it into his pocket. Slowly, he eased back, slipping into the sea of faces. He fell into step with the marketplace crowd.

He had no idea who she was, but suspected she could be working for the man who killed Bastile. He would have to lay low till then. An abnormally strong woman couldn’t be a good sign.

From a tent a drunk stumbled out. “Sure is good stuff,” he hiccupped and collapsed on the road. Without second thoughts, Tsuru seized him by the feet and dragged him behind some barrels. He came out properly dressed. The turban irritated his scalp though, and he shuddered at the thought of lice.

It was not a second later that the same strange woman stormed by, eyeing the crowds suspiciously, who parted before her with caution. Brushing past, she gave no second look to Tsuru, who avoided her glance, before pressing on.

Once she disappeared around the corner, Tsuru took another route, unaware that he was tailed. Edging through the rows of tents, he was within feet of his camel when a callous hand grabbed him by the collar.

A burly man with a milk-white eye leered at him. “Hey there pal, pay up or kiss up.” He flung out his fist, which Tsuru easily caught. Slamming his forehead into the thug’s, Tsuru sprinted away from thief’s cries of anger. Soon a chorus of voices started up.

Emerging into the market crowds, Tsuru sped through the bodies, hoping to lose them. As he turned around a stall, a thin thief lashed at him with his scimitar. The weapon grazed Tsuru’s face and drew a thin line of blood. Tsuru retaliated by grabbing the handle and thrusting it at him, striking the man with the back of his own sword.

But the delay allowed the rest of the gang to catch up. Even a full-fledged ambush Tsuru could not take on at once. He had to thin out the lot.

He scaled up a tottering stack of enormous vases, elevating himself from the fray.

“I’ll get him, boss!” A reedy man dashed forward eagerly, followed by some of his cohorts.

“NO, YOU IDIOTS!” The one-eyed man screamed.

Ignoring their leader, the thieves kicked over the vases at the base of the stack. Tsuru tottered over, much to their delight. It was short lived. The entire pile plummeted and felll unto the very fools who triggered the avalanche. The boss tore at his beard and stormed amid the debris, searching for his prey.

“Up here, Baka.” Tsuru sneered as he hung unto a clothesline. “Tsk. Tsk. Shame on you. Picking a fight with a helpless old man.” But he stopped short when he heard the voice of the strange woman again. Quickly he dropped to the ground, realizing that he had alerted her with the commotion. He looked for a place to hide, but then had an idea. He dashed over to the bandit leader and kicked in the behind. The thug retaliated with a solid whallop into Tsuru’s gut, sending him crashing into the stall.

“You there! Stop!” The girl stepped from the crowd, brandishing her halberdier menacingly.

The thief laughed. “Come on, goddess, this isn’t your battle.”

She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “I got you now, Crane Hermit. I’ve been searching for so long.”

“Huh?” A dumbfounded look crossed his features. He scratched his head in confusion. “I don’t know who you’re lookin’ for Sweetheart, but it sure isn’t me…” His hand stopped as the touched something strange on his head. He withdrew it, finding it was an odd hat with a bird’s head perched upon it.

The boss was close to having a heartattack. “Ann, look. You got the wrong guy. Honest!” He backed up as the warrior pressed her weapon at the base of his neck.

She gave him a triumphant look. “Oh, no I don’t. Bird hat, old, and able to hold his own against a gang…You are him.”

The bandit buckled under the pressure and ran screaming like a girl into the market crowd, with Annin on his heels. The people laughed as they watched the two scurry through the streets.

Seeing the coast was clear, Tsuru pulled himself from the wreckage and chuckled at his cleverness. As he straightened, he noticed a stall with mounds of brilliant jewelry on it. In the middle of the collection was the six-star dragon ball, embedded in a wreath of opals and pearls necklace.

Tsuru bought the thing immediately and tore away the jewels from the dragon ball. He got back to his camel and prepared to mount when he noticed the beast had something pink in its mouth. With difficulty, he pulled it out and read:

“TICKET FOR ILLEGAL PARKING. PLEASE PAY AT SHAH’S COURT. THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY.”